


The Peaks

by Bubblemage



Series: Soulbound [2]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Jughead doesnt love Veronica, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Veronica just wants to be friends, reference to VeronicaXarchie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblemage/pseuds/Bubblemage
Summary: "I don't love you." he says slowly as if he's testing the words on his tongue; firing a warning shot before properly taking aim and doing precise damage."I'm not asking you to love me!" She screeches, her eyeliner just starting to run down her face and her hands scrambling to grab a bust off the shelf and haul it as toward him. He has to duck to avoid having the antique item collide with his skull and honestly he thinks it would be been so much easier if he'd never dodged it."But I'm supposed to come first! I'm your soulmate, not her!" She drops whatever is left in her hands to crumple to the floor in a defeated manner. A heart wretching sob leaving her red painted lips.





	The Peaks

**Author's Note:**

> If you are curious about music that i listen to; i had Lewi's watsons-the peak on repeat as i wrote this. I felt like it was perfect for this ship of mine.

_" Papa died Sunday and I understood_  
_All dead white boys say god is good_  
_White tongues hang out, god is good"_

* * *

 

Sometimes in the middle of the night she can think real hard to whatever moments they’ve spent together and she can feel how the smile on her face was slowly reduced to a sneer.  She doesn't remember exactly when this started to happen: but she knows a small thing in her heart continues to crumble and break when he doesn't notice.

It’s a blank, disgusting, suffocating, stuffy and bleak feeling. Disappointment clings to her like a second skin and she thinks that maybe he can actually see it all. That maybe he’ll take her into his arms one day and realize all the pain he causes her. That just because she’s supposed to be his and he’s supposed to be her’s that he’ll suddenly care.

It’s a defeated sort of thing that she keeps clutched close to her weeping heart.  
  
Every time she looks for him, he avoids and ignores her comments; and she feels another part of her heartbreak. Especially on days where all she can think is _‘i want to go home’_ as she lays in her own bed.  
  
Veronica Lodge was horrible at starting conversations and doing paperwork. She shared a soulmark with one Jughead jones the third and spent her nights scared that loving her soulmate was the only thing she could have ever been good at; and even then she couldn't do it properly.  
  
Veronica’s mother used to tell her that the difference between love and hate was her Father Hiram. And god does she like to think she hates Jughead with every fiber of her being for pushing her into this shitty position they’re in; but she can't bring herself to say those words to him.  
  
It’s been three years since that fateful day at Pop’s when they’d found out they were soulmates and Jughead had begged for her silence. Shame radiated off him in waves and Veronica wasn't sure if he was ashamed that he _had_ a soulmate or that _she_ was his soulmate.  
  
Veronica had thrown herself into work and school; knowing that there was nothing worse than putting your life on the line for a boy. But the doctors had said getting sick when away from your soulmate was a fate worse than death.  
  
Archie helped. Even though he was just a platonic bond; curling into his lap on his days off helped to take the edge off of not having Jughead around. She supposed that maybe that this was the reason Archie was her platonic; he was supposed to help her deal with Jughead.  
  
“How are you?” He asks slowly, Veronica’s head is on his shoulder and she hasn't even bothered to change out of her work clothes. Her hair is still perfectly waved and her legs are hanging off the arm of the chair. His hands are resting lightly at her waist, his thumbs rubbing smooth circles into her skin in hopes of getting her to relax.  
  
“Exhausted.” her voice is void of any emotion, and Archie stills his movements momentarily to shift her on his lap; her black dress riding up to rest just at the tips of thighs. Her right heeled shoe falls off when he moves her, and so Veronica kicks the other off; the red bottomed heel sliding across the marble floor in her apartment before slowing to a stop before the fireplace.  
  
She had a room in her place for Jughead; every few weeks he’d stop in to sleep or just sit in the same room as her for a few hours. They never spoke and he never looked at her.  
  
She's constantly torn between being happy or pissed off that he seems to be feeling the same withdrawal that she is. Unfortunately for her, He’s far harder to find.  
  
“He isn't coming back.” She says then. Because why would he? He has a platonic soulbond with Betty and Veronica is positive they’re going to spend their lives together. She doesn't even know he has a soulmate, why would she be opposed to happiness?  
  
“He has to.” Archie replies quietly. She keeps her gaze focused on the pale blue walls of her sitting room, tears filling her eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks.  
  
“You should try and get some sleep; you’re tired. I’ll stay the night.” Veronica shifts closer to him on his lap and buries her face into his neck.  
  
“This is the kind of tired sleep can't fix.” she mumbles, and he can feel her tears against his skin. She hopes that she crosses his mind every once in awhile; just so she doesn't feel pathetic for letting him cross her mind.  
  
‘I want him, but I also want to get over him. And neither are happening.” Archie can't find the right words to respond with, so instead, he cradles her in his arms and moves to stand.  
  
Pembroke was as beautiful as he remembered it; and the fact that Veronica had decided to stay local meant more than anything in the world to him. She’d taken over the pembrooke as a gift from her mother, and ran the apartment building as the landlord as well as Andrews construction as an accountant.  
  
He’d helped Veronica paint the walls and decorate apartment 305; It was done in an old 50’s hollywood style that Veronica was always fond of.  
  
It was warm back then.  
  
He thinks the apartment has grown colder with the years. He’s worried that Veronica still clings to her mantle as Ice Queen and that this is in a way becoming her fortress of solitude.

The lights are all off except for a small light down the hallway that leads to the master bedroom that she occupies. He pushes the door open with his foot, his eyes roaming over the neatness of the cream colored room before he settles her on the bed.  
  
Her eyeliner is smudged and her hair is matted to her forehead; but Archie can't help but think that she’s just as beautiful as the first day he saw her.  
  
“Don’t sleep in your work clothes.” He chides gently as he makes his way to the vanity just across her bed; opening the top drawer he knows has some of his shirts, and pulls one from the neat pile and keeps it in his hand. He avoids looking in the mirror at her as she undresses.  
  
It’s not anything he’s never seen before; but he can tell she’s trying to keep herself together in his presence.  
  
He tosses the shirt at her over his shoulder and she catches it easily, pulling it over her head and falling back onto the bed. It makes a little noise in response to her dropping her weight onto it, protesting the sudden movement. She rolls to the center of the bed, not bothering to get beneath the covers. Archie takes off his work boots, placing them at the foot of the bed before moving into the bed to curl around her.  
  
“Let's get you a solid five hours of sleep before your ride to new york.” He says, and he waits for a response; but all he hears is deep breathing and light snoring.  


* * *

_"Papa died while my girl lady Edith was born both_  
_heads fell like eyes on a crack in the door_  
_and sodom, south georgia slept on an acre of bones_  
_slept through Christmas, slept like a bucket of snow"_

* * *

When Hiram Lodge died, Hermione had spent the whole funeral sobbing. Veronica wasn't sure how one would properly react at times like these. She didn't hate her Father by any means, but she was aware of how horrible a person he was.    
  
He’d spent the last few years building them a house in Riverdale so they wouldn't feel the need to stay at pembrooke, but Veronica could never bring herself to go see the finished piece.    
  
Archie had assured her that the Mansion was beautiful and nearly as ostentatious as Thornhill and that it had to be if he and his father were helping to bring it to life. But even that hadn't pushed Veronica to go, and her Father’s death wouldn't push her now. 

Betty had hugged her tightly at the wake and offered for her to stay at her house; deeming this a horrible time to be alone and that she should spend it with people who love and care about her.    
  
Now, take note here that Veronica was not a vindictive person; she was however petty. Kevin had told her that if Petty-ness could effectively kill people, then she’d have destroyed half of new york in her business endeavors to take over Lodge Industries. And at this exact moment (with Betty gripping Veronica’s arms tightly but pinning her with the kindest smile she’d ever seen) Veronica had to fight the urge to make Betty cry.    
  
An urge she hadn't had since their first meeting as the other parts of Archie’s soulbonds. Which, she did make her cry (But Betty had claimed she had a higher monopoly over Archie being as he was her soulbond and Veronica had scoffed and stated that her words were on Archie's skin, not Betty’s so who was more important) but she wanted to consider them friends.    
  
And had she not taken note of the fact that Betty was wearing one of Jughead’s jackets, then Maybe she would’ve invited the Cooper girl into her house and they would’ve girl chatted in front of the TV and eaten pizza like the old days. But Veronica had looked her over coldly and simply told her  _ ‘No Thank you.’ _ and walked out of the funeral home.  __  
  


When she entered Pembrooke, she smiled at the doorman who had gifted her with a cake his wife had made. While still the epitome of class, Veronica allowed anyone to live in Pembrooke; and she’d be a liar if she didn't say she chose carefully who inhabited the walls of her home.    
  
She’d accepted the chocolate cake with a laugh and graciously thanked him before taking the elevator to her apartment. More often than not she’d keep the door unlocked, and simply turning the doorknob and nudging the door open with her hip she easily stepped into her home.   
  
She’d been burning incense when she was gone, and being welcomed home to a scent that was eerily similar to the cologne her father wore when she was a child helped to calm her nerves. Kicking her shoes off by the door, she set the cake onto the table where she usually placed her keys and was in the midst of taking off her jacket when she noticed him.   
  
He’d gotten taller, and she couldn't believe how much he looked like his father; but far more youthful and less drunk. His face wasn't hard like it usually was when he saw her, but she could tell he was trying his best to keep eye contact. He’d discarded his suit jacket on the back of one of her sitting chairs; an action she absolutely despised, but who was Jughead if he didn't purposely do things to piss her off.     
  
She carefully took off the pearl earrings and necklace her father had Gifted her two weeks earlier when she’d properly inherited Lodge Industries and placed them into a small porcelain bowl that was dangerously close to falling off the table due to the cake.    
  


Veronica had spent months thinking about what’d she say when she stumbled across him in her home.   
  
‘ _ Our home’ _ a voice had whispered. She straightened her back and kept her place by the door, aware that at any moment she could simply run if this turned to be too much.    
  
She used to fantasize about rejected the apologizes that she knew would never come. 

Back when they’d attempted for those two weeks to live together and start a tentative friendship, he’d helped her choose the color of the walls and helped paint them. He and Archie had both been there. The two people closest to her that she knew would never hurt her.   
  
Or the man who never would and Jughead.    
  
They’d started their friendship and their life as roommates; him knowing he’d leave the moment Betty called, and Her hoping he’d at least come back.   
  
She was angry when he did.    
  
“Hows New York?” She asked then.   
  
“You’d know, you were just there Archie tells me. Congrats and inheriting Lodge Industries.”    
  
“Betty’s doing well.” she comments offhand.    
  
“She said she wanted to see you. Archie called us when he got the news. She took the weekend up to come up here and see you ya know; you could at least receive her properly.” He’s sliding his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers when he speaks, his black hair slicked in some 50’s bad boy style she hates to love.    
  
He reminds her of James Dean at times like these. When he dresses up, only to dress down the look with the leather southside serpents jacket he was gifted at their high-school graduation. 

Jughead takes note of the way her hair is styled to perfection in pin-up curls, resting over her shoulder gently while her eyes are anything but. She’s done her eyeliner perfect, like everything else about her; but her trademark red lipstick is missing and Jughead attributes it to her own version of mourning.   
  
“I hear working for the Times is fun. I've seen her pieces a few times in the paper.” She shifts closer to the fireplace, where the mantle was decorated with antique baubles and pictures; and leans down to turn it on. The fire roaring to life.   
  
“That’s something you should talk to her about, not me Ronnie.”    
  
“It’s not like you can’t answer all my questions. You guys are living together.”  She hopes the words leave her tongue like bullets, but she knows they don't. Her voice is eerily calm and she speaks with familiarity.    
  
They both do.      
  
“Schools good, thanks for asking.” She doesn't want to ask him about school. She knows he’s doing well; he has to be. He was always an old soul; there was no way he wouldn't get into an arts school and be the best writer they’d seen in years. She knows he’s won awards; she gets letters about it.    
  
She burns them all. And regrets ever reading about his achievements in life.    
  
She’s not sure what she’d ever do if Betty asked her why she never writes back, but Veronica considers herself more of a phone-call type person. She’s gotten quite good at hanging up on people when they’re mid-sentence. 

“Why are you even here?” She stands up slowly and keeps her head downturned to look at the fire. She feels like some damsel; she hates it.    
  
“Ronnie, your dad just died. I know you’re hurting. Archie and Kevin are going to show up later on anyway to take you out for dinner and I thought maybe lu-” He’s effectively cut off when she throws a Swarovski crystal rose at him. It shatters on the Floor and Jughead steps away from it to avoid stepping on any of the crystal.

“Ronn-” He starts again, but he has to duck when she throws an oriental vase at him; the flowers still inside.    
  
“ _ Veronica.” _ He admonishes, But all she does is scramble to grab something else from the shelf; something she hopes is giant and will  _ hurt _ . She’s grabbing whatever she can and tears are running down her face yet she still seems perfectly put together.    
  
“Can't you just let me care for you!?” He yells, jerking back to avoid a book.    
  
She was sure she’d never be in so much pain again, but here she was. There's nothing romantic or intriguing about reading books by yourself at three in the morning while waiting for sunrise. Or how she lets the poisonous taste of Vodka scald the lining of her throat.   
  
A small hiccup, a miscalculated mental thought about how they could've been; and suddenly she’s crumbling to the floor in a broken sob. The bust of a cat falling from her hands to shatter around her, cutting her hands.    
  
Scraping her knees to look like scattered islands on a map.

“You know what sucks.” She says then, a hiccup wracking her body. If he wasn't watching the tears roll down her face then he would think she was just honestly pissed. But he’s learned through life that there is a huge difference between dry and wet anger. Dry anger meant that you didn't care at all, while wet anger meant that you cared too much.

“Destiny, soulmates, true love, all this stupid childhood bullshit; it honestly sucks.” she whispers.    
  
“I don't love you.” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue after mumbling them to his reflection in the mirror for months. Firing a warning shot before he can properly take aim and do precise damage.   
  
“I’m not asking you to love me!” She screeches, moving to stand and reaching onto the shelf for something else to throw; gasping when she realizes she’s thrown it all. Her eyeliner is just starting to run down her face and she grabs her shoes from the door and throws them. Forcing him to duck to avoid the thousand dollar shoes from colliding with his head and honestly he thinks it would've been so much easier if he’d never dodged it.    
  
“I’m here as your friend!”   
  
“This is  _ not _ how you treat a friend!”    
  
“You’re acting like we broke up! Veronica we didn't break up! We never even started!”    
  
“You can’t keep doing this, I  _ can't _ keep doing this!” she screams. He’s positive the whole building can hear them scream and shout; that the building has been reverberating from her antiques shattering against the marble floors and colliding against the walls.    
  
“Veronica I don’t love you.” he tries again, his voice firm, clear, and commanding. Acting as if she hadn't heard him the first time around.

“I know you don't!” She screams back, her hands balled into fists at her sides as she stomps toward him, stepping over glass and crystal alike.   
  
“Because you don't  _ destroy _ the person that you love! I know you don't feel that way.” her voice caught somewhere between a broken sob and a yell.   
  
Caught between two extremes just like they were. 

“Who does this? Who randomly shows up on the day of a fucking funeral to make a scene?” He reaches for her and she slaps away his hands.   
  
“I was supposed to be able to trust you”-she hisses-“When I think about all that's happened I just get so fucking angry all over again. I feel powerless and unimportant, but most of all I just feel pathetic.” Her face is stained with eyeliner and mascara and her hair has uncurled slightly, giving her some kind of wild look.   
  
Jughead grips her arms in hopes of stopping her from pounding on his chest, but he isn't nearly fast enough to stop the first few blows from connecting with his torso. He’s positive he’s going to have a bruise.    
  
“Sometimes you make me feel like I actually have a chance with you but when I try to take that chance you make me realize I never really did. You can't do this to me, I won't let you.” 

“I can't just start loving you Veronica.” He retorts gravely, his eyes hard and his voice steel. 

“No one said you had to love me. You made that choice the moment my words appeared on your skin."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wasnt sure if i should just post updates differently or just add them to the first post i made for this series, so let me know what would be easier for you guys. cause then i'll just add chapters on this one. But idk cause then id have to change the story rating when i get to teh point i wanna write smut and each chapter its like a specific period in their lives so i dont even know.


End file.
